


Fiddlefight

by SerenaDusk



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fiddle vs. Fiddle, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:54:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23613349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenaDusk/pseuds/SerenaDusk
Summary: 'I am the better version''Are you though?'What happens when a mechanic meets a more succesful version of himself?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Fiddlefight

**The better version**

Damn, why did they have to work on this thing in the basement? Sure, it was a big space and away from curious eyes, but it was so cold in the mornings that Fiddleford McGucket wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to build it in the guest bedroom or something. But no, Ford insisted on building the portal in the basement, and so Fiddleford had put on an extra shirt and descended to the underground space where the half-finished machine was slowly taking shape as they worked. It gave him the creeps, so he took every chance to work on the other equipment necessary to run it, with his back towards the portal so he could pretend it wasn’t here at all.

When the mechanic entered the room, more like cave but whatever, he saw Ford wasn’t there, but he was already up. Papers were shattered everywhere and it looked like his partner had been throwing smaller items around. Fiddleford ran his fingers through his hair, making an even bigger mess of it. He didn’t care, as long as it was out of his face, it didn’t matter what it looked like. His eyes fell on the machine in the corner he had been working on the other day. Luckily it wasn’t damaged in Ford’s tantrum. He wondered what was getting into the six-fingered scientist. It was almost like he was becoming someone else entirely. The entire project had brought him so many weird moments that he was starting to second-guess everything. Maybe this was a bad idea. But he had invested so much in this already that he couldn’t back away just like that. What if it worked? They would become the biggest names in the world of science, because the portal would be an all time first and he had to admit it did speak to him.

While dropping to his knees beside the machine he worked on, he hummed a tune and removed the stray papers from one of the lightbulbs. One of the screws had gotten loose, so he started fixing that. For once he forgot to check if the power on the machine was turned off, and when he tightened the screws, the lightbulb flashed on, as did the others on the machine. The sudden flash made him lose his balance and fall backwards, temporarily blinded. Fiddleford rubbed his eyes, trying to rid him self of the black spots on his retina. Once his vision returned, he looked at the machine, begging it wasn’t broken. It wasn’t, but what he saw made him press his hands over his mouth to supress a scream.

Above the machine was a round… hole? Or was it a screen, or mirror? He wasn’t sure, but cautiously approached it, reaching out. His hand was stopped several inches away from it, like there was a forcefield around the anomaly. But that wasn’t why he was so shocked. What shocked him was what he saw inside. A man, identical to McGucket, at least his face. The man was dressed much fancier than he was. Suit pants, a vest and a tie, covered with what looked a lot like a black lab coat. His hair was much better maintained and he just had this sense of status over him that made Fiddleford question everything. His double seemed focussed on his work and the mechanic took off his glasses, cleaned them and put them back on to take a better look. It looked like the other was writing a report on something. The handwriting was as familiar as the way the other’s eyes went from the paper to the object he was writing about; a single eyeball with a strange, purple colour.

Fiddleford watched in silence for a while, unsure what he was looking at. Had he hit his head when the machine turned on? Was he hallucinating all of this? Perhaps he should just turn the machine off. Surely this weird event would end if he did that. Instead, he cleared his throat. The mechanic wanted to verify something. “Fiddleford?” He asked. Strange to address himself in the third person. Who was to say his double could even hear him? But the other looked back immediately and almost fell off his chair as he backed away from the image. “Professor Gleeful, is this the new way of communicating? Why do you look like me? What is this?” The McGucket in black asked in that same, manic speed Fiddleford recognized so well. He was the same when Ford was having one of his moods. “What? No… I think I’m you? Who is professor Gleeful?” Fiddleford asked confused.

The other version cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “My apologies. I didn’t expect a visit from myself. Professor Stanford Gleeful is my…. Boss. I work for him. But that’s not important right now. What is the meaning of this visit? How are you even doing this.?” Apparently the black clothed Fiddleford was a lot quicker to recover from a shock like this. Fiddleford frowned. “I think, the machine I built has opened a window to another dimension? I can’t touch it, but we can see and hear each other. You work for Stanford Gleeful? I work with Stanford Pines. We are working on a portal, looks like it’s working.” He scratched the back of his head, making an even bigger mess of his hair. His double raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. Clearly not impressed by this scruffy, messy mechanic version of himself and Fiddleford couldn’t exactly blame him. It looked like his alternate was a lot more successful than him. “What about you?”

The other Fiddleford laughed a little. “Looks like it is working yes. As for me? I am documenting the results of our latest victory. Professor Gleeful has given me the chance to experiment on a creature with more fascinating properties than I had imagined. I mean, I have barely scratched the surface and already I find things that will keep me occupied for a long time.” Fiddleford frowned. Now he still had no idea what his other self was doing. Secretive, even to himself? Paranoid much? “Why do you call him ‘professor?’” He then asked, hiding a chuckle. He couldn’t imagine calling Ford that. “Why, what do you call your boss?” His alternate asked with an angry tone in his voice. “Just Ford, and he is not my boss. We’re partners.”

This seemed to frustrate the darker version of Fiddleford, but he didn’t answer, just started toying with the silver ring on his left hand. “You look like a mess.” He said eventually and Fiddleford shrugged. “I’m a mechanic, it’s very little use to put on a _suit_ when I will be working with oil and grease all day.” He replied, trying to unfold the wrinkles in his clothes. “I suppose not every version of me has had the pleasure of wealth.” The Alternate spoke with a sneer. Fiddleford didn’t like being insulted like that and looked up. “At least I actually get to work _with_ Stanford, instead of doing all the dirty work on my own.” He snapped back, then pulled the plug out of the machine, right when his Alternate opened his mouth to reply.

The image was gone immediately and Fiddleford rubbed his eyes. Despite everything that he had seen already, this was by far the strangest thing that had ever happened to him. He heard footsteps and turned around, to see Ford standing there with a weird look in his eyes. “Fiddleford, am I going insane? Is this even possible?” He asked, his voice doubled with a second tone. “Not at all. I think it’s working.” The mechanic answered and watched Ford collapse on the ground. “But yes, you’re mad.”


End file.
